


wear your love like it's made of hate

by renaissance



Series: Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week 2015 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bus Travel, HQ Rarepair Week, M/M, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Close proximity does strange things to people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wear your love like it's made of hate

**Author's Note:**

> [Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week](http://hqrarepairweek.tumblr.com/) Day 6: ~~Dreams /~~ Travel
> 
>  
> 
> This is one of those fics that appears almost exactly as I first imagined it and, just so you know what you're getting into, the working title was "Yahaba Shigeru's Bus Disaster." The actual title is from the Manic Street Preachers song "Autumnsong" and that's my second song lyric title for the week with absolutely no regrets. I had a lot of fun writing this because I'm super fond of these two, so, I hope you enjoy!

Shigeru ticks off the last name on his list, leaning against the bus. It’s a cool day, and he wants nothing more than to get on the bus and hit the road, but there’s something relaxing about being at school early on a Sunday morning. For the first time in a very long time, there’s silence, and he doesn’t resent it.

It’s been too quiet since the old third years left. The new second years are almost too well-behaved—even Kunimi—and the first years are good, but they’re nowhere near as fun as the space they have to fill. Shigeru is still trying to fit himself into the role that Oikawa left empty, as a setter and a captain, but the angles are all wrong, and he’s still settling. It takes him a moment to respond when someone calls out for the captain, and he’s still adjusting his tosses for this new team.

On the whole, it’s different. Different shouldn’t need to be a bad thing, but Shigeru resents change. He resents it for leaving him so helpless, more than anything.

“Yahaba!” Coach Mizoguchi calls. “Get on!”

“Coming,” he says, slipping his pen through the clipboard’s clasp and handing it to Mizoguchi as he gets on on the bus.

The doors close behind him with the kind of disastrous finality that can only mean they’re leaving—leaving for the first practice match of the year, against a team in Iwate. It’s either because no-one in Miyagi can match Seijou, except for Shiratorizawa, and Karasuno on a good day, or because they don’t want to show their faces against the likes of Shiratorizawa and Karasuno.

One thing can be said for this year’s team—there’s a _lot_ of them. It’s a small bus, but it’s packed, and at a glance Shigeru isn’t seeing any empty seats.

Kunimi catches his eye, and signals him over. “There’s a free seat behind us,” he says.

Shigeru takes one look at the seat behind Kunimi and Kindaichi, and shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Are you gonna stand all the way to Iwate?” Kindaichi asks.

Shigeru sort of knows that it’s an earnest question, but he can’t help but feel that he’s the butt of some cosmic joke. His suspicions are confirmed by Kunimi covering his hand with his mouth and laughing. But if there’s one thing Shigeru knows for sure, it’s that there is _no way_ he’s sitting next to Kyoutani.

“You can have my seat, if you want,” Kindaichi offers.

“No he can’t,” Kunimi says, elbowing Kindaichi. “Sorry, captain.”

“You’re not sorry,” Shigeru says, “you’re _evil_.”

Kyoutani is slouched in the window seat, staring at the parking lot with a scowl. His bag is nestled awkwardly under his legs, and his chin is resting on his hand, his elbow on the windowsill.

“Hey,” Shigeru says, “shove.”

In response, Kyoutani shifts his sprawled legs slightly closer to the window, but not close enough that Shigeru will have enough legroom. Frowning, Shigeru yanks down the armrest between the two seats.

“Further away,” he says.

“No room,” Kyoutani grunts.

“Make room,” Shigeru says.

“Can’t you sit somewhere else?” Kyoutani asks, shuffling sideways a bit as Shigeru sits down.

“Trust me,” Shigeru says, “I would if I could.”

The bus heads off, and Shigeru takes a magazine out of his bag before putting the bag as far under his seat as it will go. Most people complain about how hard it is to read in a moving vehicle, but Shigeru’s never had a problem. He’s got a few sports magazines in his bag for the trip, as well as a novel for if he gets _really_ desperate.

He only gets a few pages in before Kyoutani interrupts.

“Put that goddamn thing away. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Make me,” Shigeru says.

Perhaps he ought to have chosen his phrasing better. Kyoutani lunges towards him like he’s been whipped and snatches the magazine. He starts to roll it into a tube, so Shigeru twists around and makes a grab for it.

“Give it back, you—”

“Make me,” Kyoutani says.

Shigeru probably should have seen that one coming.

They’re sitting down, but Shigeru still has the advantage of height, even though Kyoutani is holding the magazine away from him. He pulls his leg underneath him and practically climbs onto the seat, swatting at Kyoutani’s hand. Kyoutani has the reflexes of a good volleyball player, though, and Shigeru takes a moment to appreciate how skilled his ace is. The moment doesn’t last long before he’s back on the offensive.

“You two up back!” Coach Mizoguchi shouts. “No fighting!”

Shigeru is startled to his senses and slumps back down in his seat. The last thing he wants to be remembered for is being stripped of his captaincy for fighting on a bus and injuring a fellow teammate.

“Let’s talk this through,” he suggests. “Can I have my magazine back?”

“No,” Kyoutani says, tightening his grip on it.

Shigeru winces at the dents he can see in the paper. “Okay,” he says, “why not?”

“I told you,” Kyoutani snarls, “it was giving me a _headache_.”

“What’s your _real_ problem here?” Shigeru asks.

Kyoutani narrows his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t think you have a headache,” Shigeru says. “I think you just don’t like me.”

“Bullshit,” Kyoutani spits.

He slackens his grip on the magazine, though, and Shigeru snatches it and shoves it back in his bag.

“So you _do_ like me?”

“No, you fuckhead,” Kyoutani says, “of _course_ I don’t like you. I’m saying it’s bullshit that you’re trying to turn this into some psychological crap.”

“I’m not,” Shigeru says. “Look, I’ll fight you if that’s what you want, but not on this bus. We can—”

Shigeru takes a deep breath. He’s not doing this because he cares about Kyoutani. He’s doing this so that he can become a better captain.

“—we can talk it out.”

Kyoutani barks out a laugh. “You’re so pretentious.”

“Where’d you learn such a big word?” Shigeru shoots back.

“You calling me dumb?”

“I’m— _yeah_ , I’m calling you dumb,” Shigeru says, “because you clearly can’t piece it together that you’re only acting out because you have a stupid grudge on me.”

“You _humiliated_ me,” Kyoutani says. “At Spring High. You pushed me to the wall in front of _everyone_ , and you think I’m going, what, _respect_ you after that?”

“I’m your _captain_ ,” Shigeru snaps. “I’m not asking you to respect me. Just stop being such an arse to me.”

Kyoutani scrunches up his nose, as if in thought. Shigeru doubts that Kyoutani has ever had a deep thought in his life.

“Hey,” Kunimi says, poking his head over the back of his chair, “you two should play a Get To Know Me game.”

“ _What_ ,” Kyoutani says.

“You know,” Kindaichi chimes in, “if you try to understand each other better, you’ll probably get on a bit better.”

“They made us to it with Karasuno’s Kageyama after a match in middle school,” Kunimi says quietly, looking away.

“One of the things is to ask each other questions about them that you’ve always been curious about,” Kindaichi says.

“It didn’t work,” Kunimi adds.

“Worth a shot,” Shigeru says, turning to Kyoutani. “So what’s with the stupid haircut?”

“Don’t talk shit about my hair,” Kyoutani says. “You know how much bleach fucking costs?”

Kunimi and Kindaichi retreat back down with the sound of barely-muffled laughter.

“I’m not talking about the colour,” Shigeru says, ignoring the second years. “It’s those lines.”

“What about the lines?” Kyoutani snaps. “They’re not stupid compared to your schoolboy fringe.”

Shigeru narrows his eyes. “My _what_.”

“Your haircut looks like your mummy picked it out for you,” Kyoutani says. “Does she choose your clothes too?”

“Don’t bring my mother into this,” Shigeru says, furious. Apart from anything else, he’s spent the last ten years struggling to get her to stop trying to choose clothes for him. “I’m surprised _your_ mother even lets you out of the house, looking like that.”

“My mum isn’t _around_ ,” Kyoutani says. “Don’t be so fucking insensitive.”

“I can’t believe _you_ are calling _me_ insensitive,” Shigeru says. “Sorry she’s dead, though.”

Kyoutani folds his arms. “She’s not dead, you piece of shit,” he says. “She’s just not _around_.”

“This is getting a bit too deep for me,” Shigeru says. “Anyway, you started it.”

He never wanted to know so much about Kyoutani. It’s a stupid idea, asking questions and talking about themselves. Shigeru will just get through this year the best he can. They may not be friends, but they can still be a cohesive team.

He’s pretty sure Kyoutani feels the same way, so he’s surprised to hear his voice again so soon.

“My turn for a question, right?” Kyoutani asks. “Why are you so calm all the time?”

Shigeru narrows his eyes. “Calm?”

“Yeah,” Kyoutani says. “Like, you’re one angry fucker. So why’d you keep it in?”

“I can’t believe this,” Shigeru says, sinking down into his seat. “You really want to play twenty fucking questions with me?”

“Anything to stop you from reading a fucking magazine,” Kyoutani says.

“You shit,” Shigeru says, forcing back a grin. “Alright, yes, I’m angry. I’m just good at hiding it, because people don’t like to see that, you know?”

Because he’s trying, he’s trying _so_ hard to be the captain that Seijou deserves.

Kyoutani looks away, out the window and into the distance. Shigeru is _so_ not fooled by this deep act. But what Kyoutani says next actually manages to catch him off-guard: “Maybe I’d like you more if you were angry more often.”

Shigeru is silent for a moment. “So, you’re saying you’re going to try to get along with me?”

Kyoutani spins back from the window so fast that Shigeru gets second-hand whiplash. “Fuck no!” he says.

“You used the word _like_ ,” Shigeru reminds him. “So you think there’s potential.”

“This isn’t twenty questions,” Kyoutani snaps.

“It was never twenty questions in the first place,” Shigeru says. “This isn’t how it works.”

“ _You_ were the one who called it twenty questions,” Kyoutani says. “Take some fucking responsibility.”

Shigeru folds his arms. He’s not getting into this. It was the worst idea ever and he’s going to yell at Kunimi, and to a lesser extent, Kindaichi, as soon as they’re nowhere near the coaches.

“Anyway, it’s your turn for a question,” Kyoutani says. He spits out the words like he’s full of resent, but there’s a genuine note of curiosity in his voice.

And there’s something Shigeru’s always been curious about.

“Okay,” he says. “So what’s the deal with the eyeliner?”

Kyoutani looks like he wasn’t expecting that. He narrows his eyes and shuffles away from Shigeru slightly.

“Come on,” Shigeru continues, “you can’t tell me you wear it to make yourself _less_ noticeable.”

“It’s—” Kyoutani begins, but he seems to be struggling to put a sentence together. “It’s just my _look_ , okay?”

“I just don’t see the appeal,” Shigeru says lightly. “It makes you look like you don’t get enough sleep. Or is _that_ the appeal?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Kyoutani says haughtily, and Shigeru is shocked to hear a bit of himself in the way Kyoutani speaks. Maybe they’re more similar than he thought.

So, he smirks. “Try me.”

Kyoutani doesn’t respond—instead, he reaches under his seat and yanks up his bag. “Careful what you wish for, Yahaba.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

Shigeru stops, and gulps. Kyoutani is holding an eyeliner pencil.

“You game?”

“Yeah,” Shigeru says slowly, “I’m game.”

To prove his point, he lifts the armrest between their seats and turns so that his back is to the aisle. As he turns, he notes that almost everyone else on the bus is sleeping or listening to music. It’s as good a time as any to make a fool of himself.

As Kyoutani takes the cap off the pencil and leans in closer, Shigeru swallows the last vestiges of his shame. At least Kindaichi and Kunimi aren’t paying attention.

Without warning, Kyoutani’s left hand comes up to grip the side of Shigeru’s face. He’s got the pencil’s cap wedged between his fingers, and it presses sharply into Shigeru’s cheek. Shigeru bites down on his lower lip as Kyoutani’s right hand draws nearer, and as the tip of the pencil makes contact with the corner of his eye, he blinks reflexively.

“Hold still,” Kyoutani says, his voice a quiet hiss over the buzzing of the bus.

“It’s kinda hard when there’s a _pencil_ right in front of my eye,” Shigeru says.

“Close your eyes, then,” Kyoutani says. “It takes a bit to get used to it.”

“Oh, and you’re _so_ hardcore,” Shigeru mocks, but he closes his eyes anyway.

He doesn’t like not being able to see what Kyoutani is doing, and he can feel the pencil moving roughly over the most sensitive parts of his skin. His left eye feels heavier when Kyoutani pulls away, and he blinks them both open.

“I’m not done,” Kyoutani says.

“I know, idiot,” Shigeru says. “How does it look?”

“I’m a pro,” Kyoutani says. “What do you expect?”

Shigeru watches as Kyoutani switches the pencil from his right hand to his left and holds it just as deftly. As his right hand comes up to steady Shigeru’s face, Shigeru sucks in a breath.

“You know what you’re doing with your left hand?”

“What, you think I’m only ambidextrous on court?”

“Impressive,” Shigeru says, before he remembers he’s not meant to like Kyoutani at all.

“Whatever,” Kyoutani says. “Close your fucking eyes.”

It’s the only time Kyoutani will ever get the satisfaction of giving Shigeru an order, he thinks. He closes his eyes and breathes out as Kyoutani’s fingers dig into his skin. There’s nothing harsh about this—the way Kyoutani draws with the eyeliner pencil is nothing like the way he spikes, all rough edges and firey force. This is almost… _delicate_ , like he’s really trying to be an artist.

Shigeru can sense that Kyoutani’s nearly finished, when the bus jerks and he’s pulled backwards towards the aisle. He keeps his eyes shut just in case Kyoutani’s hands slip and the pencil ends up in his eye, but instead he can feel the press of a dark black line being drawn down his cheek. And then there’s another sort of pressure on his face, and it takes Shigeru a second to register that there are _lips_ on _his_ lips—

His eyes fling open and he sees his expression mirrored on Kyoutani’s face—mouths hanging open, fear in their eyes.

Fear, and something else.

Kyoutani still has the pencil in his left hand, and his right glued to Shigeru’s face, and Shigeru acts on the _worst_ impulse he’s ever had and fists his hands in the front of Kyoutani’s shirt. Luckily, Kyoutani has the same bad idea, and they both move forward to collide, unceremoniously shoving their mouths together. Shigeru winces as their teeth knock, but it’s not long before they settle into a rhythm, a fast, violent union of lips and tongues.

Almost too soon, Kyoutani pulls away—Shigeru thinks perhaps he went too far in biting Kyoutani’s lip, but he was just reading the mood, right? Surely Kyoutani wasn’t expecting butterflies and rainbows.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Kyoutani says, pulling his hand away from Shigeru’s face and wiping it across his mouth.

Shigeru is about to reply, dropping his hands from Kyoutani’s shirt, when Kunimi’s head emerges over the seat back.

“What’s going on back there?” Kunimi asks, draping an earbud over the side of his ear.

Predictably, Kindaichi follows suit and looks over. “Is that—is that _eyeliner_?”

Kunimi raises a lazy eyebrow. “Can I try it?”

“What the fuck?” Kyoutani says again. “No, you _cannot_ use my fucking eyeliner.”

“Thanks,” Kunimi says, reaching over and plucking the pencil out of a stunned Kyoutani’s fingers.

Shigeru stifles a laugh behind the back of his hand, and Kyoutani jabs him in the side. “You think this is funny?”

“Hilarious,” Shigeru says.

“You’re the one with the black line down your face,” Kyoutani says.

“That was because the bus went over a bump!” Shigeru says. “You’re the _pro_. You should have known better than to—”

Shigeru stops. Kyoutani is looking at him funny.

“ _What_? Is there something on my face?”

“Obviously,” Kyoutani says. “Just—shut _up_ , okay?”

“Why don’t you make me,” Shigeru says.

“That’s what this has been about all along, hasn’t it?” Kyoutani asks. “You—me—not getting along and that… it’s just—”

— _sexual tension_ , Shigeru completes mentally. Neither of them need to say it aloud.

“Hey, Kindaichi, how do I look?” he hears Kunimi say.

“Ridiculous,” Kindaichi says.

“You want me to do it for you too?” Kunimi asks.

“Hey!” Kyoutani says, reaching over the seat and swatting at Kunimi. “My eyeliner pencil is _not_ your whore!”

Kunimi’s too fast for him, though, and hands the pencil over the seat to Watari. “Hold onto this so he can’t reach,” he says.

Watari looks like he’s either trying very hard not to laugh, or not to sigh.

“Ugh,” Kyoutani grunts, slumping back down in his seat.

“Well, if that’s that,” Shigeru says, reaching down, “I’ll get back to my magazine.”

“Like hell you will,” Kyoutani says.

“Just close your fucking eyes,” Shigeru snaps. He’s not in the mood to fight. He’s _exhausted_ , and they haven’t even played a match.

It’s a pleasant surprise when Kyoutani does just that—he leans even further back and closes his eyes. Within minutes, Shigeru glances sideways from his magazine to see Kyoutani’s mouth hanging open and his breathing slowed. He’s even uglier when he sleeps. Shigeru sort of wants to kiss him again.

He doesn’t, though. He’s not going to keep thinking like that and distracting himself. He flicks back through the magazine, and he’s about to bend down and pick out another when he feels a heavy weight fall on his shoulder. His whole body seizes up—there’s no _way_ he’s even going to turn sideways, because he _knows_ that Kyoutani is _asleep on his shoulder_ , and could this bus ride get any worse?

“Wake _up_ ,” Shigeru hisses.

Nothing.

“Kyoutani, I fucking swear, if you don’t wake up this second—”

This time when the bus goes over a bump in the road, it’s a blessing. Kyoutani flings himself upright with a loud noise from the back of his throat.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Shigeru says, not looking up from his magazine.

“When we get to whatever school we’re playing, Yahaba, I’m going to—”

The bus comes to a stop.

“We’re here!” Coach Irihata calls down the bus.

“And we’re running a little late,” Coach Mizoguchi adds, “so hurry up!”

They file off, and Shigeru very purposefully does not make eye contact with Kyoutani. He’s going to wait until they’re back at Seijou, then drag him to the change rooms and kiss him until he’s sore, and then never speak about it ever again. Maybe if they work off this tension sooner rather than later, they’ll be able to stop pissing around and work together better, for the sake of the team.

Shigeru risks a glance back at Kyoutani. Their eyes meet, and Kyoutani flinches back like a startled puppy.

“Don’t fuck up today,” Shigeru warns him.

“Yes, _captain_ ,” Kyoutani says, his teeth clenched.

“Hmm,” Shigeru says. “You can call me that again later.”

He doesn’t stop to check Kyoutani’s reaction. The other team is lined up at their school gates, and someone who’s obviously the captain steps forward. Shigeru steps forward in turn, and they shake hands.

“We look forward to playing you today,” the other captain says.

“Us too,” Shigeru says.

“Um,” the captain says, retracting his hand a bit too quickly, “can I ask… why are you all wearing eyeliner?”

Shigeru looks over his shoulder at his team—sure enough, they’ve all got thick black rings around their eyes and slightly apologetic smiles on their faces. Coach Mizoguchi looks like he’s about to pop an artery.

And Shigeru catches Kyoutani’s gaze, and they share a smile that Shigeru can’t quite explain. He turns back to the other team’s captain.

“It was a long bus ride.”

**Author's Note:**

> (So now I can mention that the full song lyric which inspired this was "wear your eyes as dark as night, paint your face with what you like; wear your love like it is made of hate, born to destroy and born to create." Yep. How perfect is that.)
> 
> Please leave a comment!


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